The Bonnie, Bonnie Banks
by gwybodaeth
Summary: Third of a series, after Combat-Ready and The Girl. It's been three months since the life-changing events in Scotland. How is Nancy getting on? How will her life change? And is there maybe a certain redhead on her mind? Light femslash. Nancy/Zoe. Don't like, don't read.


"You're serious! You really want to do this! ...Wow."

"Well aren't you tired of hiding, of being something you're not? I am! At first it was a relief not to carry a label, not to stick out. But high school was _years_ ago, and here you and I are, still living the lie. Don't you want a chance at real happiness?"

Ned ran his hand through his hair, uncharacteristically tousling his usually-immaculate locks.

"I guess you're right, that we can't really get what we want this way, but what will our parents say? And really, it's not like Mr. Right has come knocking on my door, any more than… Is that what this is about? Have you finally met someone?"

Ned sounded excited, and his look matched it as Nancy flushed slightly and darted her eyes away. She would not flinch. She would not stammer. Especially over something she was now convinced she had imagined.

"No. I mean, it was…it's impossible…it's impossible, it's over, and I _don't _want to talk about it!"

Ned held up his hands in silent surrender. He knew that tone of voice. In their younger days, it had meant a bloody nose for anyone who pushed Nancy for more than she was willing to give. Now, it carried the same threat, if in less physical form.

"I'll think about it."

There was a point beyond which he too was not willing to be pushed, at least not yet.

* * *

Sifting through the day's raw intel, at least the stuff high-level enough to cross her desk, Zoe Wolfe paused at a red folder stamped with a familiar name. These folders were a regular occurrence, one she had requested specially. She didn't think of it as spying, not really, just keeping a concerned eye on a…friend.

Her eagerness belying her justifications, she tore into the file that would likely be the only bright spot in an otherwise dismal week. One in a long series of dismal weeks, really. The fight against Revenant was not going well. She knew, theoretically, what might tip the scales in their favor, but that option was unavailable to her at the moment.

Pushing these thoughts aside, she examined the folder's contents, a small smile lighting her face. Surveillance was limited to exterior cameras and mics only. The point was not to gather information, but rather to make sure the subject was safe, from enemies and from self-harm.

The smile slipped. The mics had picked up a conversation, and a serious one, too. Who knew the Drew girl—Nancy—would make her back garden the venue of choice for her conspiracies?

She read: _'You're serious! …impossible…over…think about it'._

_No. Surely not…_

And yet, she couldn't help but hope.

* * *

"How do we do it?"

"And hello to you too. Lovely weather we're having, though it is supposed to rain later this week. Still, good for the rose bushes. And Mrs. Gladstone, the neighborhood gardening fanatic, insists that—"

"All right! Jeeze! _Hello!_ There, that do?"

"Very nicely. Now, what can I do for you?"

"Just to be clear, you know I came here to agree to your cockamamie plan. I come here to give you what you want, and this is how I'm treated?"

"Yup."

"You're impossible," but he was grinning. "Like I said—how do we do it?"

"We tell them, of course."

This was met with a snort.

"We'll get them together—probably on a Sunday morning, when dad is sure not to be working—and we'll sit them down, and we tell them."

"You make it sound so easy."

"Well, I suppose it is. Not the telling them, maybe, but the how part. After all, how many ways are there to say: 'Guys, Ned and I have been together for over ten years now, I know that has made all of you extremely happy, and that you've been taking bets on when the engagement will be…and by the way, we're gay.'"

"I don't know—singing telegram, billboard add, airstrip banner—OW!"

After recovering from the punch, this one directed at his arm, Ned conceded.

"All right, I guess we do it your way. That's going to bruise, by the way."

Nancy just smirked.

* * *

_Oh, to eavesdrop or not to eavesdrop, that is the question!_

It was a week later, and Zoe was in her office reading her latest status update on Nancy. The mics had picked up another back garden conversation, and this one was mercifully unambiguous. She grinned. Maybe she had a chance.

Now though, she had a dilemma. Nancy and Ned were about to bound out of the closet right in front of their unsuspecting parents. Of course, this had the potential to go very wrong and turn very hurtful, and she sincerely hoped that did not happen. On the other hand, what she wouldn't give to be a fly on that wall.

And, thanks to the marvels of modern covert technology, she could be, and quite literally. Oh, the temptations of a job such as hers…'to snoop or not to snoop?'

Who was she kidding? She always chose 'snoop'.

* * *

Around the same time, a cabal was meeting in secret in the study of the Drew residence.

"So, they want to talk to us, do you think this could finally be it?"

"After all these years, I should really hope so! It doesn't take most people nearly so long!"

"It is romantic, though, isn't it? Loyal to each other for all those years…"

"I'm so proud of them, how they've matured. We've raised a couple of darn fine kids. Now maybe they'll stop dithering and get on with it!"

"...Do you think having champagne at the ready would be overkill?..."

"Amen."

"...Bunting and cake and pony rides..."

"Shut up, Edith."

"I assume that was said with the utmost respect, James Nickerson?"

"Yes, dear."

* * *

It was stating out that was hard. Once the first few words had passed her lips, Nancy found it easier and easier to go on. She had started with her mother's letter, how it urged her to be herself, and assured her that she would always be loved, no matter what.

Ned had kept to the background, happy to let Nancy do the explaining. She had always been the more outgoing of the pair, and now was no exception. He didn't hide, though. He stood by her, offered support. They would brave this together.

Hardly pausing for breath, Nancy gabbled on, explaining how they had become friends as the two brainy kids of their grade, ostracized by their peers. How they had eventually recognized a secret part of themselves in the other. How they had come up with a plan to protect one another, to avoid the cruelty of another ostracizing as they entered high school.

Eventually, the story had taken on a life of its own. And here they were, ten years after they had made their pact.

Finally falling silent, Nancy really looked at her father for the first time, half-afraid of what she would see there. She knew he loved her, but this was an issue that had the potential to drive a wedge between even the most loving of families.

To her shock, she saw he was grinning. And not just Carson, but Ned's parents as well.

"Well, it's about time," Carson commented.

Nancy gaped.

"What? You didn't think we knew? You fooled your classmates well enough, but you couldn't think we wouldn't notice, not after ten years?"

Nancy sank onto the vacant couch she hadn't known was behind her. A moment later, Ned hit the cushions with a muffled thud.

She couldn't speak. She could only smile, and cry a little, as her father came over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I love you, ugly horse shirt and all."

* * *

Nancy sat alone at the piano. She had started playing again after her return from Scotland, the first time since she was four years old. That late autumn evening, as the setting sun shone bright as new copper through the large windows of the back garden, she worked on a simple arrangement of _Loch Lomond_.

The words of the refrain drifted through her mind:

_Oh, yeh'll tak' the high road, an' I'll tak' the low road,_

_'__An I'll be in Scotland afore yeh._

_But me and me true love will nae meet again,_

_On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond._

The song wasn't a perfect fit of course. In real life, songs seldom managed to express the exact blend of circumstances and emotions that defined one, but this one was close enough. She had left a woman on the banks of Loch Lomond, one she had grown unaccountably attached to. And it was almost certain that they would never meet again…

There had been something there, hadn't there? Had she really imagined those shared glances, the small, hard-won smiles, the profound relief in Zoe's voice when she had found out Nancy was safe?

And did it even matter?

As she repeated the song, Nancy thought she felt a draft. Her father had probably opened a window, as he was inclined to do on fine evenings such as this. As she breathed deeply of the fall air, she caught the faint scent of…perfume?

Slender arms encircled her as she made to turn, but she was not afraid. And when a laughing, Scottish-accented voice breathed in her ear, Nancy relaxed back into the woman's embrace.

"Hello, me dear."

Maybe it did matter after all.


End file.
